


Acid Tongue

by yours_eternally



Category: Murderdolls (Band), Slipknot (Band), Stone Sour
Genre: Clothed Sex, Drinking, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24234568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: ‘Joe—’ he starts, voice low and eyes fixed on Joey’s face, expression earnest. Joey looks back, waiting for whatever bullshit is coming next. He takes another breath, then says: ‘dude, I need you to suck my cock.'Shooting the shit after they've both come off stage for the evening, Corey has a proposition for Joey that he’s definitely not buying.Set mid 2003.
Relationships: Joey Jordison/Corey Taylor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Acid Tongue

Joey accepts the bottle and takes another swing. It’s not helping. He’s had a shitty sore throat since they landed in Europe a week ago and it’s not getting better. The medic had given him a single Ambien and told him not to drink. So, whatever, basically Joey has to accept he’s fucked; presumably he recovers or he dies. At least the booze is taking some of the edge off.

He’s collapsed with Corey on one of the couches in the tiny rec room that’s attached to the venue. They don’t have to start the drive to the next venue until the morning (it still kind of blows his mind that it takes like three hours to get anywhere in the UK) so they’re taking advantage of not being crammed on the bus. Everyone else is outside talking and smoking or gone to bed already. He can hear their voices muffled through the half closed door.

Joey stretches a little, eyeing the other at the end of the couch. Corey's gone quiet with a cigarette halfway to his lips, which are pursed in thought. Corey going quiet is never a good sign in his experience.

After a moment Corey flicks the butt, adding another burn to the carpet and turns to Joey. He puts a hand on his leg and Joey can feel the warmth of it through his clothes.

‘Joe—’ he starts, voice low and eyes fixed on Joey’s face, expression earnest. Joey looks back, waiting for whatever bullshit is coming next. He takes another breath, then says: ‘dude, I need you to suck my cock.’

Joey exhales heavily, closing his eyes to prevent them rolling out of his head, as he takes another swing. Corey’s variety of bullshit is novel, if nothing else.

‘Why would I do that?’ he asks deadpan, staring back at the other.

‘Well,’ Corey says, ‘...I want you to and… we’re friends… and, y’know, Joe, I’d fucking die for you, man—’ Joey takes another swing; _here it comes_.

‘And, therefore, suck my dick?’ Joey interrupts before Corey can hit his stride and talk him into it.

‘C’mon,’ Corey says, nudging him with his shoulder, ‘you look cute in a skirt.’

‘Yeah, no fucking way, dude,’ he says, laughing. He makes to get up but he’s just drunk enough for his balance to be almost non-existent, so when Corey catches him by the waist and pulls he falls back down into his lap like he’s had his strings cut.

‘Again— _fuck off_ ,’ Joey says, struggling to get up while Corey tries to hold on to him. They wrestle clumsily. Joey starts laughing because Corey laughing and Corey’s laughing because he’s kind of drunk too, and it’s so stupid, and all Joey can smell is Corey’s familiar gross beery-sweat-cigarette-smoke smell and he’s suddenly so fucking homesick his chest hurts.

‘You can hump my leg if you’re that desperate,’ he says, finally wriggling out of Corey’s grip. He can’t imagine that would be very comfortable — his legs are pretty boney — but he has still got his fishnets on so he guesses that’s something if Corey really feels like he needs to get off that badly.

‘Yeah, okay,’ Corey says, apparently keen. Joey shrugs, surprised.

‘How do you want to—’ he starts but Corey’s already toed his beat-up sneakers off and knelt up on the couch. Joey sets the bottle on the stained carpet, squirming as Corey pushes him onto his back. Then Corey climbs on top of him, pulling up the skirt Joey hadn’t been bothered to change out of earlier. There’s a big rip in his fishnets on his inner thigh, which he hadn’t realised was there until Corey pushes a thick, denim-clad thigh up between his. Corey’s bent over him, long blond curly hair everywhere, with his forearms bracketing Joey’s head.

For a moment, it’s like the rest of the world has gone out of focus and the only thing that exists is the two of them breathing in each other’s mouths.

‘You’re heavy,’ Joey says, more to say something than because he actually cares. This isn’t exactly what he’d had in mind— it's just too intense. But he’s kind of half-hard from the alcohol and the play fight and a warm, firm anything pressing on his cock is just about perfect right about now.

‘I wanna kiss you,’ Corey mumbles and Joey rolls his eyes.

‘No.’

‘C’mon, baby, you’re so fucking hot,’ he says, thumb brushing gingerly over his cheekbone. Joey groans at the line but doesn’t move when Corey dips his head to press their mouths together. He tastes so strongly of the whiskey they’d been drinking it makes Joey’s lips tingle. Corey sinks a hand into his hair as he slides his tongue into Joey’s mouth. Joey groans again but for a different reason.

Corey shifts his thigh and Joey feels a sharp shard of pleasure shoot through his gut. _Fuck_. Corey is actually going to kill him; with his smell and his hot hands, and his burning mouth and his hips starting to roll into Joey’s like he’s fucking him with his clothes on.

Joey can’t help it. He just pushes back, getting into it, working himself onto Corey’s thigh as his hands bunch up the fabric of his t-shirt. Corey grunts pressing hard, sloppy kisses over his face and neck. Joey pants, feeling Corey gripping his hips pulling him into him. He can feel Corey’s cock rubbing against him through their clothes, hot and insistent.

Corey’s talking, of course, mumbling and swearing, over and over. Joey pulls his head into the space where his neck meets his shoulder, trying to muffle the sound, hand cupped around his skull. He’s so fucking hard and he just can’t hear Corey’s shit right now. He bucks up onto the downwards pressure of Corey’s body laying heavy on top of him. He must be getting one hell of a friction burn but he can’t stop; hips rutting against the thigh jammed between his. Corey leaves his lips, mouthing along his jaw, sucking his necklaces, and Joey tips his head back to give more access.

‘Don’t,’ he says, gritting his teeth as he feels Corey suckling a bruise on his neck, ‘Corey, _don’t_. I don’t want a fucking hickey— _Christ_.’ Corey grumbles but moves his mouth, yanking Joey’s shirt down enough to set his teeth on his collarbone instead. Joey gasps at the feeling in spite of himself, back arching up into the other.

‘Fuck yeah,’ Corey grunts, hand fisting in Joey’s hair as he starts kissing his mouth again. Joey’s too worked up to tell him to get off this time, letting him slide his tongue in. He’s hot in his clothes, sweating from the drink and Corey’s blanketing body heat. The way Corey’s jerking his hips in short, rough thrusts is twisting up his gut tighter and tighter. Corey tongue is in his mouth again, and he’s stuck one hand between the couch underneath them and Joey so he can hold him in place while fucks into him harder.

Corey's mouth is latched on his neck again and he’s so close it hurts. It only takes another couple of his rough thrusts before he comes, nails digging into Corey’s scalp where he’s holding his head. Corey’s groaning, holding on to him hard, with his wet mouth still on his neck. Then Corey goes rigid before collapsing onto him. They lay, both panting, for a moment.

‘Dude, c’mon,’ Joey grits out, pushing on his shoulders but Corey’s a deadweight. He sighs, resigned. He can feel himself sticking to his underwear and he can’t find the energy to care.

He must have passed out for a second because he flinches when Corey stirs, finally pulling himself upright. Joey wriggles out from under him, getting his boots back on the floor and pushing his hair back off his face.

‘Thanks, man,’ Corey says, slapping his back and standing up, like Joey had just let him bum a cigarette instead of use him as a masturbatory aid.

As Corey walks out Joey stares after him in silence, nonplussed, then he stretches to retrieve the bottle from the floor and drinks deeply.

**Author's Note:**

> [xyours-eternallyx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xyours-eternallyx) on tumblr 🙌


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